


Lifting Wishes to the Stars

by thewhalesaid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Purgatory, really not that violent -- it's just a warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-07
Updated: 2012-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewhalesaid/pseuds/thewhalesaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The monsters hear about him: the man, the beast, tearing Purgatory up asking, where's the angel ? They hear about him, and they know the answer. They know what's been done. They also know someone else is searching, desperate prayers unanswered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lifting Wishes to the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> [Y'all should listen to this while you read.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXvco5wwPNs)

At first he’s running, and then he’s shouting.

After a while, he can’t really tell the difference anymore.

Everything burns. He feels it, everywhere. The strain of muscle in his legs, the ache of his bones, the fierceness in which his heart beats, flames pounding in his head. There’s a rage etched inside of his bones, a burning fury he’s not sure he wants to quell. He doesn’t think he can — it’s a matter of life or death, and right now, this fire is the only thing he has left to hold on to.

He’s running, then he’s shouting, and there’s no room left to differentiate in the middle.

Not when three words are all that’s left in defining him, the entirety of his existence wrapped around three measly words:

_Where’s the angel ?_

Dean Winchester’s never been one for the over expression of words, and right now ? He couldn’t be _fucked_ to care about one more than Where’s The Angel.

Benny knows it. Oh, Benny knows it, alright. Has known it since before he decided to pair up and hitchhike their way to metaphorical Mexico, since before, even. Since he first heard word there was a human in Purgatory, and realized he may have found his way out.

Since the whispers of the Man Searching, instead of a Man on a Run, started.

Where’s the angel, he asks, before cutting your head clean off if he doesn’t like your answer — if he doesn’t _get_ an answer.

When he finally gets one, Benny watches Dean chop the wendigo to shreds, and he smirks at the irony.

The perfect hunter, being ripped alive by a man lost.

Hell Hath No Fury, right ?

The word rings through the clearing moments afterwards, a piercing shriek, torn from the throat of a beast they’d never expected to hear talk int he first place, the word that keeps Dean hacking, and Benny from pulling him off:

Leviathan.

When they find them, in the den underground, subpar compared to the luxury they’d been living in for centuries ( this is Purgatory, the Leviathans are part of the blueprint ), Dean tears the place in two with the rage and anger of a man who has nothing left to give. Benny’s by his side, of course, cleaning up the mess he leaves in his wake, but part of his is ready to run, hackles pointed to the door, like an animal. Fight or flee, and, should Dean suddenly turn that murderous, pitiless look on him ? Benny’s going to flee.

Dean moves with the fury of a brother who’s held his kin in his arms, of a man who’s loved only to lose, time and time again.

It’s not only about Castiel anymore, and that’s the cold, hard truth. He moves with the grace and zero-inhibition of a man who who has fought, and will keep fighting. A man who has killed for less, who has tortured and been tortured — a man who spent four decades in Hell under the blade of Alastair’s knife, and then its handle, a man who said no the Michael, who watched his brother fall into the Cage, who tried — so hard — to live a normal life, and ripped it away for this.

A man of free will, with fire in his eyes, blaze overcome by the fury, the desperation in his heart.

When Castiel opens his eyes, he’s so lightheaded he sees four of everything. He closes them as soon as he does, in futile attempt to stop the dizziness exploring his body, and that’s when he feels it. Feels _him._

Dean.

The blinding, deafening power of his soul, strong enough to barge through and be picked up via Castiel’s mind — the soul, not of a Righteous Man, but one with a mission. A man seeking revenge.

The taste is vile, so bitter in the back of Castiel’s throat, that he lurches forward and empties the void in his stomach, stomach bile spilling on his own clothing. He’s chained, has been since he was caught, and he can’t tell the difference from bleeding or not, anymore, but now is not the time worry about his own filth, to drown in his own disgrace.

Dean is here, and Castiel’s bones feel the chill.

He closes his eyes, tries to shut out the sheer force of Dean’s nature, and loses consciousness doing so. He blacks out with a shout ringing in his ear, and comes to at the same word:

_Cas._

* * *

Dean’s crouched in front of Cas’s body, balanced on the balls of his feet as he watches the angel. He hasn’t moved in the past few hours, and, for once, Dean hasn’t been getting more and more agitated.

He’s too nervous to get restless.

He’s got his dagger gripped between his knees, balancing his chin on his hands, which are latched on to the handle — ready to attack, should it be necessary.

There’s a part of Dean, deep down, that wants it to be, that wants a reason to grind monster to dust. Thing is, he’s not quite sure how deep down it goes.

On the outside, yeah, he’s quiet. He’s calculating. He’s watching Castiel and waiting, no much more, waiting for the angel to wake, for any sign that he’s going to be alright, in that tired, battered body of his that Dean has already begun wrapping up. On the outside, Dean is silence, blanketing the forest of Purgatory with his existence — the monster, they’ve heard it now. That the human stormed a leviathan nest, and left it in flames behind him, but on the inside ?

Dean’s head is screaming.

It’s an array of thoughts, little prayers to the angel, to anyone who will listen. His brain betrays him, this time more than any.

_You better wake up, you sonofabitch, because if you don’t … Well, I’ll tear this place apart until you do._

Please, Cas, just wake up. You’ve gotta.

You can’t leave me alone here, Cas, not after all of that.

You can’t leave me, period. Cas, **please.**

Castiel wishes he would shut up.

He tries to express this opinion, but his throat, it burns. It’s raw and tastes metallic, an ugly taste he wishes he were immune to. It closes up around his words, enough that he starts sputtering, and Dean leaps from his crouched position.

” Cas !” he cries, out loud and in his head, his heart, his bones. Cas twitches ( it’s loud, it’s too loud ), and Dean breathes out a sigh of relief.

” Thank God — I mean. You know what I mean. ” He’s babbling now, not something Cas is really used to hearing happen out loud, but it’s mindless enough that the angel slips back out of consciousness before he can really grasp the words.

” Fuck, ” Dean mutters under his breath, sighing and pressing his forehead to the angel’s, Cas’s face in his hands.

” ‘Least he woke, ” Benny grumbles from his post, leaning against a tree, and Dean nods in his shoulders.

Yeah. At least.

* * *

Cas wakes up again, the back of his eyelids burnt with images of black tongues and wicked smiles, of piercing green eyes and a taste for blood. He thinks he screams, but his throat is too torn up to tell. Regardless, Dean rushes to his side a second time, grabbing onto Castiel’s shoulder, and when he speaks, his eyes are softer than his voice.

” Cas, Cas ? Can you hear me ?”

Dean knows the hold on Castiel’s arm is tight, but he can’t help himself; he doesn’t want the angel slipping away, pulled apart by shadows. So he grips tight, kneeling in front of the other, eyes searching for any sign of life in that worn, dirty face.

Cas makes an indistinguishable noise, and Dean’s shoulders visibly relax.

” Hey, man, ” he says, and if this were anyone but Dean Winchester, it’d be classified as a murmur, ” You’re going to be alright. We’re away from them now. “

What he expects, is for Cas to relax. For him to nod, and curl back to sleep, to hopefully have enough strength in him for food, or at least water. To heal himself and say something like, We’re Always Surrounded, in a matter-of-fact tone, just because it’s Cas and he’s never exactly been good at lying for the sake of consoling the speaker. Instead, Dean watches eyelids flutter, and when he’s finally able to see that peek of blue he’s been missing for so long, it’s laced with terror.

And he’s staring right at him.

Cas jerks back, Dean watching in surprised horror as his body collides with the tree, how his limbs are pulling up against each and getting farther away from him.

” Get away from me, ” Cas whispers, voice torn in vocal chords and spirit. ” Stop this. “

Dean doesn’t know what to do, but let his hand drop helplessly to the side, and stumbles back in shock as Cas continues to babble.

* * *

It continues like that, for the next few days; every time, Dean’s hand drops a little quicker, stepping back a little farther. Castiel shakes in his sleep, cries out when he wakes, and jerks away when he sees Dean. It’s a repetitive cycle, of Dean trying to move in, get closer, only to be shut out.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can take, especially not when Cas is shouting, ” Don’t touch me ! Please, please, no more !” in broken spirit whenever he gets close.

” What gives, brother ?” Benny asks him, one night, nodding his head towards the angel as he cleans off a blade. They haven’t been given much chance to move, resorting instead for protecting the area as best they could, but it was getting too much. Benny reminds him they need to change locations, yet every time, Cas refuses to let Dean help him up.

It almost kills Dean, to shake his head and mutter, ” Not a clue. “

Benny raises an eyebrow, staring Dean down for a few beats before he continues: ” What happened to that … Angel mojo, I’ve been hearing so much about. Shouldn’t he be able to heal himself ?”

It’s an obvious question, so trust Benny to force Dean to stare it straight in the eye.

” I don’t know. I think he can. He should be. “

Dean keeps watch that night, and ignores the sinking feeling that Castiel’s mojo hasn’t left — he’s just too broken to use it. Every glance at the shaking form just proves his point, and every whimper drawn from his angel’s lips — well. Dean starts itching to move, fingers twitching towards a weapon, feels the pulse of rage once more, ready to see every Leviathan in this godforsaken shithole skinned by the ankle and screaming for their lives.

* * *

Benny gets Cas to move, and it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but God. It hurts. The angel lets himself lean against the vampire, shoulders curled around himself, and Dean hopes he’s only imagining it when he notices the sharp edge of shoulder blades from under the fabric of the overcoat — if you could even call it that, at this point.

He walks ahead for the rest of the trek.

* * *

Cas feels searing pain, and sees flesh splitting. He can taste blood, smell it, feel it, he’s covered in grime and it won’t stop. It just won’t stop.

Dean’s green eyes stare down at him, knife pulling at his skin, poison entering his bloodstream, and he feels the scratch a black tongue slide up his hipbone. There’s laughter, so much laughter, and the careless bite of teeth into his flesh, with Dean staring at him, Dean’s smirk, Dean’s eyes.

He distracts himself by counting freckles, because reminding himself this isn’t Dean doesn’t help anymore.

He counts until he passes out.

He wakes up counting, the smirk burned into his mind.

* * *

They move when they can. Benny pulls Cas up, guides him along, and they go slowly. Dean’s not quite sure where to, but anything’s better than posting out in the same place for too long, especially here.

It happens when they stop for the night. Dean’s tired, oh, so tired, and he can’t help himself from laying on the ground in attempt to catch a few fitful hours of sleep. He thinks he manages two, if he’s lucky, when a shout startles him awake, and he’s on his feet, weapon in hand, before he even gets a chance to blink sleep away from his eyes.

Balthazar dismisses him before he even has the chance to say a thing, waving a hand idly in the air before crouching down to kneel over Cas.

” Benny, stop, ” Dean barks, finding his voice in time for the vampire to launch himself at Balthazar, turning to narrow his eyes at Dean.

” ‘Nother friend of yours ? Didn’t know we were turning this into a road trip, ” he growls, but Dean doesn’t listen.

” What the _fuck_ are you doing here ?”

Balthazar ignores him again, and Dean takes a step forward.

” Listen to me, you sonofabitch — “

” Do you honestly you think you’re the only monster Purgatory eats up ?” the angel snaps, whirling around to stare at Dean. ” Do the math, Princess. Angel, killed, where do supernatural beings go — oh, that’s right. Purgatory. ” He huffs, and then turns his attention back to Cas.

” So you just pop in here, out of nowhere ? Little suspicious, if you ask me, ” Benny snorts, and Balthazar rolls his eyes.

” Luckily for me, no one did ask you, ” is the angel’s retort.

Dean narrows his eyes. ” Well now I’m askin’. “

” Oh, right, I forgot. You’re Dean Winchester, and anything you ask, I answer, despite the fact that you’re an insufferable git and will you just _shut up_ for two seconds ? Either that or find me a drink. “

” Balthazar, what are you _doing_ here ?”

In a split second, Dean is pressed against a tree, blue eyes narrowed dangerously — not in warning, but in threat.

” I’m here, because I’m still an angel, Dean. And when someone prays, we answer. “

 _Not always,_ Dean wants to spit back, but he’s too busy reeling from the implication of Balthazar’s words, turning his head best he can to look at Benny.

” You prayed ?” he calls out. The vampire snorts, and Dean’s eyes narrow back to Balthazar. ” Nobody asked you to be here, Balthazar. Thanks for your piss-poor timing, though. “

” Certainly, because there’s only two willing, praying souls in this little foursome. Mon cher, you’re as stupid as you are handsome in your macho bravado. “

” I always knew you thought I was pretty. “

” Not my type. “

” We didn’t pray for you. “

” No, but Castiel did. “

And then Dean lets the words drop over him, frowning as he stretches to get a glimpse of Cas. ” Angels don’t pray, ” he mutters, more to himself than anything; Balthazar seems to catch on, rolling his eyes and stepping away, sending Dean a glare before he makes his way back to Castiel.

” Just because our father won’t answer, doesn’t mean our brothers won’t. Especially not when someone needs help. “

The knowing glance he shoots Dean’s way says it all for him, and Dean lets his shoulders slump, staring as Balthazar crouches back down in front of Castiel, and takes the other angel’s face in his hands, the way Dean should’ve been doing.

He doesn’t go back to sleep that night.

* * *

Once there, Balthazar doesn’t leave, and it sets Dean more and more on the edge. He can’t help it, but _he_ wants to be the one with Cas, he wants to be pushing his hair back, and watching over him as he sleeps. He doesn’t have Balthazar’s mojo, doesn’t have the ability to touch and repair wounds, but Dean wants to be kneeled in front of him, wrapping up cuts, brushing over bruises, promising it’ll get better.

That’s only because you’re used to taking care of Sam, he tries to tell himself, but Dean’s long-passed that point of realization. Balthazar just makes it worse every time he gets Castiel to look at him in thanks, in relief, and not horror.

* * *

Dean wakes up before they can scream his name, grabs his dagger, and cuts the head off a werewolf before even standing up straight.

It takes two seconds to survey the scene, with Benny’s balanced pose, and Balthazar’s fingers, twitching at every noise. He can hear them coming, can hear the shuffle of the leaves, and the whispers the wind carries; he knows there are a lot. Knows they’re not going to be able to make it just by standing here, because they stopped in an area not as isolated as he’d wanted, and they’re going to be surrounded. So Dean does the only thing he can think of doing: He lunges forward, ready to meet the beasts before the get close.

It doesn’t take long for them to realize they’re outnumbered. Benny’s taking down guy after guy, wrestling those he can’t fight off with a knife, and Dean keeps seeing blinding flashes of light out of the corner of his eye, from Balthazar. He’s hacking his way through corpses, but Dean knows they’re not going to be able to do this much longer. The only option is to run.

Balthazar and Benny seem to know this, because they’re both shouting at him ( the former in Enochian, of all things ), and Dean’s already moving. He throws himself into Castiel’s line of vision, where the angel is still too weak to fight, and spots the terror in his eyes immediately.

” Cas, ” Dean mutters, reaching to grab his shoulder, ” Cas, look, buddy, it’s me. It’s me, not some fucked up hallucination those dicks did, and I need you to believe that — I need you to trust me because we’ve got to go. “

” Cutting down on the chit chat might help, ” he hears Balthazar call out, soon followed by the piercing shriek as he smites without mercy.

” Cas, please. We need to go. “

Cas looks terrified, is curling himself up, away from Dean, and Dean pushes back the sinking feeling in his chest to grab his shoulders, forcing the angel to look straight at him.

” Cas, I don’t care if you think I’m not real, ” he starts shouting, face wet from tears and sweat, ” I don’t care, just come with me because _we have to run._ “

The next thing Dean knows, Cas’s hand is intertwined with his own, and they’re running for their lives.

* * *

Benny and Balthazar find them later that night. They’re sweat-soaked and dirty, but alive, and Dean owes them that much. If they notice that Cas is still holding Dean’s hand, or that Dean hasn’t fought him off, even if it’s his right hand, well, they have the decency not to say a thing.

* * *

Things don’t get better, but they don’t get worse. Cas wakes up screaming sometimes, and there are moments when the curve of his shoulders, the sharp angle of his back, are a warning sign towards Dean. When he goes back to being beaten and broken, because there hasn't been time to put him back together -- Dean tries as hard as he can, though. The hardest, is when Cas can't remember him anymore, can't differentiate between Dean and the Leviathan's weapon. There are times when the Leviathans are still winning. There are times when fear conquers, and moments where Dean’s own fury itches for another rampage.

But they’re trying to find a way out.

Gabriel’s been looking, Balthazar says ( ” That sonofabitch is here too ?” ” What, you think I was going to have fun in Purgatory, just lil’ ol’ me ? Nonsense, of course he’s here. ” ” Should I be askin’ who this Gabriel fellow is ?” ” No. ” ” Oh, you’ll adore him — he killed Dean a hundred and some times, didn’t he ?” ” Stop grinning. ” ) and they’re going to get out here. Dean knows it.

Knows it because he’s the Righteous Man, he’s a Man Searching. Not on a run, never on a run. He’s a man who would tear apart this place for less than a way out — who _has_ torn the place apart for less. And then he looks over at Castiel, who’s curled up at his side, unafraid to touch. His face looks peaceful, and soon, he won’t need to sleep to recharge anymore. His arm’s tight around Dean’s waist, where it’s been since they stopped, and Dean thinks to himself.

No, not for less.

**Author's Note:**

> I sort of want to continue this to add in parts I missed ( namely, what happened to Cas, more on how he responds, and Gabriel ), but we'll see. Happy Holidays, everyone ! Hope you enjoy.


End file.
